[CW OneShot/Feedback] Pitter Patter

[Rosesong]

Pitter patter. Drops of rain, falling from the sky like teardrops, exploding as they make contact with the earth. It's so laughable, how I'm so much alike a thing that I generally despise. Rain drops fall to earth terrified of the aftermath that would ensue should they touch something and burst open, nailing an unsuspecting target with the raw, untamed energy harnessed within the liquid shell that they boast. So they run; run from their problems, run from those they care about, run from those they're angry at. Do they care where they go? Of course not, so long as their outburst doesn't hurt anyone. They go where they feel that they can cause the least impact possible, cause the fewest casualties possible. They fall to the earth, knowing that her gentle hands will catch and nurture them until they feel ready to return.

I'm more like the rain than I ever thought I'd be. It's kind of ironic; whenever the rain comes to visit me, I despise it, cursing the being that sent the rain in the first place. I scorn her name, showing her obscenities and bracing myself for the inevitable gifts that she wants the rain to give me through its pitter patter. Being the ever reluctant recipient, I accept it all with complaint and bitterness-- pain, inability to move freely without assistance, aches. Now though, seeing how remarkably akin the rain is to my own being, questions arise within me, both about others and myself.

Is this why when people are sad, they feel as though it were a rainy day? Do they feel the pitter patter of their own tears, of their own emotions, trying to escape without harming anyone else? Are they as terrified of the possible aftermath of their own contact with others that they, too, are looking for their own earth to safely explode upon? I'm not sure that these questions could ever be answered, as they are so subjective and dependent on every person's individual experiences.

Then, I look at myself. Have I done something in this life to deserve the pain? Is it that I scorned that which I'm so alike that has cursed me? How was I so blind, ignorant to the pain of the rain, that I added my own insults without any thought. Why was I given this similarity to the rain? Even after long hours of reflecting, thinking, pondering, I still cannot fathom a reasonable answer; perhaps that is to be expected of unreasonable questions.

Above all else, a question burns through my head. Where is my earth? Where is the place that I can drop to without fear or worry of the consequences? Who is the one that I can trust above all else to help me become ready to go back to where I've come from, able to face those that I've run away from unjustly and without explanation? How hard will the impact be when my barrier breaks, so that the rawness of the contents of my emotions are laid bare? I'm not sure I'm meant to know the answer to this question either, not sure that I'll ever find my earth.

There is another thought that crosses mind, and it's the reverse side of the coin. What if the rain's trust hasn't been broken? Could the rain simply be too afraid, too stubborn to concede that it was wrong despite misconceptions that led to the misunderstandings, the miscommunication? Or does the rain believe that it has done nothing wrong despite what others think? Has the rain overreacted to a tiny detail? What if this is the rain that I am like, unable to see past its own shortcomings or worse, unwilling to see the logic of others?

These thoughts will plague my mind forever and, as is likely with all other questions, most probably will never reach a concrete resolution. There is only one difference between the drops of rain and I. While the rain pitter patters onto the earth, always knowing it will be there, I can pitter patter to no one. There is only the looming impact against an unknown surface with the uncertainty as to whether or not anyone will be there to pick up the pieces.